Animal Sanctuary – the song and the poem

 

River – songs from the poetry of Allison Grayhurst

https://dianebarbarash.bandcamp.com/

https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/dianebarbarash3

https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/river-songs-from-the-poetry-of-allison-grayhurst/id1293420648

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0766X9LDJ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1507310524&sr=8-1&keywords=diane+barbarash

 

 

The Poem:

 

Animal Sanctuary

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He turns his hawk head

to view the shells of turtles streaking

the still-shroud of water in tanks

as blue as sky.

 

He lifts a leg and talons tensed,

pivots to defend against an enclosing shadow.

 

With whitish eyes and an impossible urge

to fly, he hops along his man-made perch toward

the cages where squirrels leap

from metal to wood, scattering like leaves

in unpredictable flurry.

 

He listens to the ducks’ lipless sounds.

 

Spring, he will never experience again, nor know

the scent of a pent-up life released like

sunflowers blooming, or the feel of the moon,

colder but more comforting than being touched.

 

He is without time or tribe,

and like fire, he haunts

by just being.

.

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Copyright © 1998 by Allison Grayhurst

3002   

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First published in “UC Review”, 1996/1997

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Girl – the song and the poem

River – songs from the poetry of Allison Grayhurst

https://dianebarbarash.bandcamp.com/

https://store.cdbaby.com/cd/dianebarbarash3

https://itunes.apple.com/ca/album/river-songs-from-the-poetry-of-allison-grayhurst/id1293420648

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0766X9LDJ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1507310524&sr=8-1&keywords=diane+barbarash

 

 

The Poem:

 

Girl

 .

Under the willow tree a girl

was standing, lonely with

the worst of nights ahead.

They said

drink from the tarpit waters and swallow

the oysters that lost their shells.

She saw the drug the wind made

though she did not let it shift her steadfast heart.

Everywhere the notion stood

that fighting back is better than

the tender wave, better than

empathy and believing in affection.

The willow leaves have gone brown and the girl has moved

beside a cliff. She dances as though she

could not fall. And though they gasp to pity

her poor body against rocks and ridges,

she continues to move like a beautiful sound,

sure of the hand that guides her.

 .

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Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst

3011     

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Out of Our”, 2012

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Mustard Seed

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Mustard Seed

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I know your name,

but not your face,

octagon of tiny wonder

changing as I move through

my days, cloaked in the drain

and joy of your mystery.

I think I can feel you sometimes

sitting beside me, playing games

with your sister and laughing with

all the rest.

I think of someone fiercely beautiful

merging souls so easily with the family-us.

I touch my belly, remaining clothed

in this still-normal body.

I turn the lights out early, happy

when I think of the future.

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Copyright © 2004 by Allison Grayhurst

3013

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “The Peregrine Muse” July 2017

https://sites.google.com/site/theperegrinemuseii/home/grayhurst

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as it is in its significance,” Kyp Harness, singer/songwriter, author.

“Allison Grayhurst’s poems are like cathedrals witnessing and articulating in unflinching graphic detail the gritty angst and grief of life, while taking it to rare clarity, calm and comfort. Grayhurst’s work is haunting, majestic and cleansing, often leaving one breathless in the wake of its intelligence, hope, faith and love amidst the muck of life. Many of Allison Grayhurst’s poems are simply masterpieces. Grayhurst’s poetry is a lighthouse of intelligent honour… indeed, intelligence rips through her work like white water,” Taylor Jane Green, Registered Spiritual Psychotherapist and author.

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Our Little Pushkin

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Our Little Pushkin

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In the mornings I watch

your sleeping face like

a chinadoll’s, perfect in every way.

I see your smile when you awake

like I would a waterfall on my street corner.

I see you curled tight with joy,

and flinch at the noon day sun.

When I hold you to feed, and you talk to me

with playful glee, I love you more than

my heart can carry.

I think this blessing is stronger than death,

strong like an acorn tree growing.

All night you rest on a pillow in my arms,

we play with bright coloured dangling things,

and your navy eyes open wide

as your legs begin dancing.

You watch and watch like a Buddha in disguise,

taking in life with a calm and thoughtful presence.

You are the spring’s first butterfly, an owl on my shoulder.

You are wonder incarnate, freely showing

what grows so beautiful inside of you.

.

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Copyright © 2000 by Allison Grayhurst

3005

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “Narrow Road, Monsoon Issue”, August 2017

 

Narrow Road_Monsoon_Issue_Aug_2017 (2)

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You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

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“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as it is in its significance,” Kyp Harness, singer/songwriter, author.

“Allison Grayhurst’s poems are like cathedrals witnessing and articulating in unflinching graphic detail the gritty angst and grief of life, while taking it to rare clarity, calm and comfort. Grayhurst’s work is haunting, majestic and cleansing, often leaving one breathless in the wake of its intelligence, hope, faith and love amidst the muck of life. Many of Allison Grayhurst’s poems are simply masterpieces. Grayhurst’s poetry is a lighthouse of intelligent honour… indeed, intelligence rips through her work like white water,” Taylor Jane Green, Registered Spiritual Psychotherapist and author.

.

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Light Rich With Innocence

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Light Rich With Innocence

(for Justin)

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Picking stones from the shore

to give your impressive, delicate

hands.

 

You repeat your

simple words, each time as a new

discovery, dramatic with joy.

 

On the rocking chair in your

uncle’s arms, your eyes glow strange

like flowers do to a heart burdened by grief.

 

You pick the small rocks, one by one,

pile them up – a rainbow tower that only

your pure imagination can see.

 

You hand them to me as gifts

from good fairies, smile

a smile that stretches higher than mountains.

 

You carry your jewels in a glass

showing them with proud delight.

They are to you, tiny miracles.

 

You kiss each one.

You bless and you

behold.

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Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

3018img182

For Every Rain Cover 5

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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First published in “Synchronized Chaos” August 2017

http://synchchaos.com/synchronized-chaos-august-2017-the-stories-we-tell-ourselves/

http://synchchaos.com/poetry-from-allison-grayhurst-4/

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as it is in its significance,” Kyp Harness, singer/songwriter, author.

“Allison Grayhurst’s poems are like cathedrals witnessing and articulating in unflinching graphic detail the gritty angst and grief of life, while taking it to rare clarity, calm and comfort. Grayhurst’s work is haunting, majestic and cleansing, often leaving one breathless in the wake of its intelligence, hope, faith and love amidst the muck of life. Many of Allison Grayhurst’s poems are simply masterpieces. Grayhurst’s poetry is a lighthouse of intelligent honour… indeed, intelligence rips through her work like white water,” Taylor Jane Green, Registered Spiritual Psychotherapist and author.

.

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Mother Chimp

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Mother Chimp

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       Gentle Flo of the

great apes,

does not sing

nor look for

comfort from the sky.

     Mother of patience and playful

as moonlight upon a wave. Face

like a roadmap of a sad

primeval journey. Sad

like the first thoughts

of wasted love. Sad

like the night jungle in all its

apparent peace.

 

     Cry for the terrible loss

in the midday rains. Cry for the African

trees, rotting from the weight of

a human-made world.

 

     Shaggy arms embrace

to receive your large-heart’s manna.

The lonely climate

surrounds you

with child, near a river that carries

the many deaths of those before

your wild and doubtless

existence.

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.

Copyright © 1995 by Allison Grayhurst

3018img182

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

.

First published in “Synchronized Chaos” August 2017

http://synchchaos.com/synchronized-chaos-august-2017-the-stories-we-tell-ourselves/

http://synchchaos.com/poetry-from-allison-grayhurst-4/

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as it is in its significance,” Kyp Harness, singer/songwriter, author.

“Allison Grayhurst’s poems are like cathedrals witnessing and articulating in unflinching graphic detail the gritty angst and grief of life, while taking it to rare clarity, calm and comfort. Grayhurst’s work is haunting, majestic and cleansing, often leaving one breathless in the wake of its intelligence, hope, faith and love amidst the muck of life. Many of Allison Grayhurst’s poems are simply masterpieces. Grayhurst’s poetry is a lighthouse of intelligent honour… indeed, intelligence rips through her work like white water,” Taylor Jane Green, Registered Spiritual Psychotherapist and author.

.

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Feral

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Feral

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I bend in mourning

bending to the loss of someone

so familiar –

your nurture-needing eyes

and a temperament of molten lava

whose tone was innocent and unrefined.

I see you now in the doorway,

flat and tensing but never moving,

then at ease with me as a soft sigh

overcomes you.

Born in a tight spot –

resigned to a tight spot – isolated

from all but me.

So strange, hard and pure,

unlike any feline I’ve ever known.

I will miss you, loving you

as one who didn’t belong.

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Copyright © 2006 by Allison Grayhurst

3010

amazon.com/author/allisongrayhurst

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Published in “Antarctica Journal” September 2017

http://www.antarcticajournal.com/poem-feral-allison-grayhurst/

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First published in “Synchronized Chaos” August 2017

http://synchchaos.com/synchronized-chaos-august-2017-the-stories-we-tell-ourselves/

http://synchchaos.com/poetry-from-allison-grayhurst-4/

.

You can listen to the poem by clicking below:

.

“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as it is in its significance,” Kyp Harness, singer/songwriter, author.

“Allison Grayhurst’s poems are like cathedrals witnessing and articulating in unflinching graphic detail the gritty angst and grief of life, while taking it to rare clarity, calm and comfort. Grayhurst’s work is haunting, majestic and cleansing, often leaving one breathless in the wake of its intelligence, hope, faith and love amidst the muck of life. Many of Allison Grayhurst’s poems are simply masterpieces. Grayhurst’s poetry is a lighthouse of intelligent honour… indeed, intelligence rips through her work like white water,” Taylor Jane Green, Registered Spiritual Psychotherapist and author.

.

.